


you can see it in the dawn, in the fire

by eternalheatstroke



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Garrison Politics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning Sex, post-season 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalheatstroke/pseuds/eternalheatstroke
Summary: Shiro woke with a start, the remnants of the dream slipping away from him before he could make out any concrete details. Fear. Anger. His chest tightened with the emotions, his mind chiding him over its own irrationality. He was safe. Keith was safe.The body under the sheets next to him huffed softly, still shrugging off his own memories and dreams. It had only been two days since Keith was discharged from the hospital, a new bandage wrapped around his bed-matted hair, a limp to his step that he tried valiantly to hide.





	you can see it in the dawn, in the fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is the culmination of all my season 7 angst. Let them comfort each other!!
> 
> Huge shoutout to Liz @disloyalpunk for editing this mess and motivating me to write. She's the real MVP.  
> Inspired by Out of the Dark by Young Lions.

The communications channel remained open, though Shiro could no longer speak to the paladins, interference making their voices static and keeping him out of range.

“Almost - keep going!” As bits of the team’s voices made it through the coms, Shiro held his breath, watching the sky. The lions grew smaller and smaller as they travelled up and out of the atmosphere, the Galra ship weighing them down and making it slow going.

They had seconds, moments, to get out of range before it would be too late - or they would save the Earth at their own expense. Shiro’s hands gripped the top of the Atlas’ console, white-knuckled, his new prosthetic digging into the metal. _This was it._

The Atlas’s final attack against the surprise ship was his last move in this battle, that and his fight with Sendak draining too much out of Shiro to will the ship into action again. He could only stand and watch now, unable to tear his eyes away from the small light of the lions and the ship. The rest of his crew looked on in silent horror, everyone holding their breath, waiting.

Without preamble, the sky lit in a brilliant flash, entirely blotting out the Atlas’s vision.

Shiro wasn’t sure if the ringing in his ears was from any real impact or his own blood pounding in his ears, but his view of the sky cleared before his hearing. He saw the trails of light before he heard the shouting.

“The lions! They’re going to crash!” Shiro wasn’t sure who said it, but instead of fear his first instinct was relief. The lions were intact, as far as he could tell. They had survived the blast. As the arcs of their fall became clearer, however, the anxiety returned like a knot in his gut. They were going to _crash_ , and Shiro couldn’t move.

His crew looked at him, waiting for a command. Sam’s eyes pleading, Veronica’s filled with desperation. Coran’s were just sorrowful. He knew as well as Shiro did that even if he could find the strength to move the Atlas, they would be too late.

“I can’t -” Shiro grit his teeth in frustration as he tried anyway, digging deep into himself and willing the ship to move - _move!_ His eyes never left the bright streak of purple, angled dangerously close to the garrison. What felt like agonizing minutes of trying to restart the Atlas only took seconds, and then it was over. The lions crashed into the Earth, billowing clouds of dust, water, and rubble marking their locations.

Shiro was too far from their crash sites to make out the details. Other than the debris flung up around them, it was almost anticlimactic, no loud sound or tremor of impact from the Atlas’s location. Veronica brought up external cameras to zoom in on their locations, appearing in large-screened feeds across the Atlas’s windows, but Shiro couldn’t bring himself to look. Instead, he hung his head, fists still clenched on the dash.

He heard, distantly, Sam taking over command, telling Iverson to alert garrison personnel and begin rescue operations. The bridge was buzzing with adrenaline, channeling their fear into action, but Shiro was frozen. The paladins were gone. Keith was gone. Who could survive a crash like that, let alone the initial impact of the blast - even with the protection of the lions? He failed them. They had made it all the way back to earth and now none of them would live to see their victory. Once again, Shiro lived at the expense of others, and once again he was alone.

 

* * *

 

Shiro woke with a start, the remnants of the dream slipping away from him before he could make out any concrete details. _Fear. Anger._ His chest tightened with the emotions, his mind chiding him over its own irrationality. He was safe. _Keith was safe._

The body under the sheets next to him huffed softly, still shrugging off his own memories and dreams. It had only been two days since Keith was discharged from the hospital, a new bandage wrapped around his bed-matted hair, a limp to his step that he tried valiantly to hide.

Shiro had been there to walk him out - as had Krolia, easing seamlessly back into life on Earth. Kolivan trailed tentatively behind, unsure in a way Shiro had never seen him, the grief of the past few months still written plainly on his face. They had arrived after the battle, having first sent out a signal to the remaining Blades to come to Earth - the new home base of the Voltron Coalition.

Shiro had been the one to tell Krolia about Keith, and she had taken it rather well, considering she had just gotten her son back only to have him nearly ripped away again. Still, it wasn’t a conversation Shiro wanted to relive. It knotted his stomach with anxiety to think about the pain on her face, trying to mask it for his sake.

He’d given her the news as he walked her to Keith’s hospital room from her ship, voice muted to escape the ears of the garrison personnel lurking in the hallways. Iverson assured him that they were there to keep more prying eyes away, but Shiro didn’t trust them to keep what they heard to themselves. Their blatant stares at him and Krolia were testament to their curiosity.

“But he is recovered?” Krolia asked him after he recounted Keith’s injuries - how his rescue had taken more time than the others, how the exposure had made him harder to treat. If the dehydration and fatigue were easily fixed, his bones and blood loss made for other challenges.

“Mostly. He’s been through hell, it’s going to take time.” Shiro knocked and then pushed open the door to Keith’s room as they arrived.

Keith was sitting up and awake, just as Shiro had left him when he’d gone to meet Krolia and Kolivan. He gave a small smile when he saw his mother, not quite reaching his eyes. “Hey.” Motioning to the IV catheters and needles still stuck in his arm, feeling the need to justify his battered state, he added, “It looks worse than it is.”

Krolia tsked as she strode up to Keith, enveloping him in a tight hug. “I’m glad you are safe.”

Shiro stood next to the door with Kolivan, shifting on the balls of his feet and wondering if he should wait outside. Before he could excuse himself, Krolia turned to him with a knowing look in her eyes. “Thank you for being here with him, Shiro.” Keith matched the look, but his eyes took on a more chastising cast.

They had already discussed the aftermath of the explosion. Right after Keith woke up, he’d refused to discuss anything else, wanting to know the whereabouts of the rest of the team, how long he’d been out, the results of the battle. Shiro had been unable to hold back his own guilt, welling up until he felt like he was choking on it. He’d told Keith how he hadn’t been able to move, hadn’t been able to do _anything._

“There was nothing you could have done.” Keith had responded as though Shiro was ridiculous for thinking otherwise. “You’re here now.”

Shiro gave a tight nod in acknowledgement to Krolia, unable to reply before the doctors entered to finish up Keith’s release from the hospital wing.

The rest of the team were absent that day, but not painfully so. They were all discharged a few days before, luckier with their crashes than Keith. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge were swept up in the thrill of being back with their families and had visited Keith earlier in the week. The visits had left him exhausted (as much as they had Shiro), so it was a small blessing that they were occupied elsewhere now. Shiro had heard that Allura and Coran were last seen dragging some poor garrison officers to the R&D department, itching to get their hands on Earth technology.

Keith walked by himself, slowly. Testing out the legs that had been pinned beneath Black’s console upon impact. The doctors told him again how lucky he was, how close he had been to something much worse. As if he had already forgotten the tree of IV bags and rapid, beeping alarm of the heart monitor, the ventilator that stayed next to his bed even after he could breathe on his own - just in case. His Galra biology made him lucky, but it was by some twist of fate that he had been _this_ lucky.

Shiro held his right hand steady at the small of Keith’s back, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. Krolia gave him one of her rare, full smiles in thanks. Those weeks of Keith in the hospital had been stressful, to say the least. Shiro had found it harder and harder to leave his side to check on the rest of the team, dismissing all attempts by the garrison to get him to appear in briefings or strategy meetings. He knew it was selfish, but the anxiety in his chest wouldn’t abate unless he was by Keith’s side.

They had gone straight home. Or, where home would be for now. The garrison was unusually generous in offering up an entire residential wing for Shiro, Keith, and their friends and family flooding in from space in the aftermath of Sendak’s defeat. The sterile hallways harkened back to a much simpler time, and Shiro had to continuously shake himself out of the memories of a much younger Keith, a much younger Shiro. It helped to see alien faces wandering the hallways, jerking him out of the reveries.

One of the perks of managing to captain the Atlas and defend the Earth, Shiro mused, was a senior officer’s suite.

The walk to their shared space had been more than enough for Keith, cringing in pain as he made it to the bed and plopped down unceremoniously. The smallest display of discomfort was all Keith would show, and he wouldn’t admit it if Shiro asked, but this time it had been close. Refusing to take the time to shrug off the hospital scrubs he had been given, Keith sprawled across the bed and fell asleep with a small, contented sigh.

 

* * *

 

The two days after Keith’s discharge were quiet for everyone but Shiro. The paladins all took refuge with their families, recovering from their whirlwind adventures in space and processing the devastation of Earth. Despite their status as “defenders of the universe” among the general public now, the garrison gave them a wide berth, as if still picturing the young, inexperienced cadets that disappeared into space so long ago. On the other hand, the garrison was adamant that it was time to rebuild, to come back stronger and more prepared for what Krolia assured them would likely be the next Galra attack. Shiro knew as well as she did, Lotor could still be alive. And no one in the Coalition had heard of Haggar’s whereabouts. The uncertainty made them all antsy, but Shiro felt his energy and attention drain with every meeting he attended.

The Earth still reeled with this influx of new information about Voltron and the Galra. The garrison branded Shiro a failure not long ago, but he was now one of their heroes. Everyone looked to him for answers. The garrison demanded his time and expertise in all decisions. They needed to know where, when, how the Galra would attack next. With more time to prepare for the next possible invasion, they scoured flight schematics and ship blueprints, turning to Shiro for anything they could be missing.

On one level, Shiro loved it, truly. This was always where he felt comfortable, and it was the respect he had always desired from the garrison - when he had thought the garrison would be his whole life. Since Kerberos, the role they asked him to play was old hat - plan, strategize, prepare. Lead. It felt like decades since the mission that had turned his life upside down, and he was happy to take on the burden if it meant the other paladins could be with their families and rest. They deserved it.

However, it also meant precious time away from Keith.

“Captain, what do you think?” Shiro abruptly lifted his head out of his hands, blinking hard to bring himself back into the meeting. This was his third of the day and it wasn’t even past noon, the garrison squeezing him into every briefing, trying to catch him up on the plans made in his absence.

“Uh… could you repeat that?” Shiro smiled sheepishly at the officer standing in front of the screen showing the latest schematics for fighter jets, Earth tech now blended with Altean and Galra mechanics. He’d read the manuals for them last night, but he was exhausted, nothing sticking in his mind when all its concern was still focused on Keith.

The officer frowned, her annoyance not masked well enough to hide. “We can do this later, sir, if you’re needing a break.” That was tempting. But it also meant Shiro would be stuck in meetings longer than he already was. Better just to push through - who knew how much time they had to prepare?

“No, please continue.” He sank back in his chair as she walked through the classified schematics of the crafts, asking him again whether or not they should share the information with their newfound alien allies. The rest of the officers at the table eyed him expectantly, making Shiro shift uncomfortably. Despite his familiarity with making decisions, it felt wrong for him to have the ultimate say in Earth’s strategy - he’d been gone for so long he was out of his depth.

His hesitancy to answer left the room in an awkward silence before Kolivan answered for him. He and Krolia were the only non-humans who had been allowed into these meetings so far, their connection to Keith, Voltron, and Shiro’s insistence on having them present giving them access. “Of course you share it. You don’t expect only humans to fight in this war, correct?”

The garrison officers in the room blanched at Kolivan’s veiled accusation, but conceded on principle. They may have wanted to keep the information to themselves, but that was impractical now, as Earth became more and more crowded with interstellar life ready to fight against the Galra Empire.

Krolia touched Shiro’s shoulder lightly as the topic shifted to aiding the growing number of refugee camps springing up around the garrison. She leaned in, whispering, “Why must they ask the most obvious questions?” Shiro fought back a laugh. Krolia had been an unexpected source of support since she arrived, at his side almost as much as she was with Keith. She was a rock in the mess of responsibility Shiro was torn between.

With Keith and the rest of the team recovering, it was Shiro who was suddenly the sole member of Team Voltron thrust into the limelight. As the oldest on the team and the one person the garrison arbitrarily considered an officer, he was branded the spokesperson. Even if he was no longer an integral part of Voltron, he realized.

The media clamor especially was impossible to avoid outside of garrison grounds, and almost more frustrating than the endless laundry list of meetings. People were desperate to know what would come next, now that aliens had come to Earth and impossibilities were suddenly a reality. This was the part of the return he was least comfortable with, choosing instead to stay within the garrison grounds if at all possible. He didn’t have the answers the Earth wanted, and he often asked himself the very same questions he was hounded with. Would the team all make a full recovery? Would Earth be ready for the next attack? Who would be attacking? Thankfully, all the meetings made avoidance easy; only his televised memorial speech following the battle had warranted a public press spectacle.

The weeks since the battle felt longer than all of their time in space combined, especially these past two days. By the time Shiro made it back to his and Keith’s shared room early in the mornings, it was all he could do to shuck off his uniform and slide into bed. Keith wouldn’t be awake when he got back, or when he left. His light breathing was the only sign that he was just sleeping. Krolia managed to update him intermittently during their joint briefings, reassuring him he was fine whenever she checked on him during the day - just needed rest. But Shiro felt the all too familiar pull of nerves whenever he was away. He needed to be with Keith in case he took a sudden turn for the worse, in case Keith needed him.

Shiro was starting to think he could use some more rest too.

 

* * *

 

This morning was his chance for that. He returned to their room in the early hours of the morning as usual, light already starting to catch on the blinds. The desert sun was shaping up to beat down on the garrison once again. Shiro managed to drift off - for how long he wasn’t sure - but the nightmares always came, no matter how light the sleep.

In the aftermath of the fight against the Galra, and the unexpected appearance of the new Galra ship, images of his team haunted Shiro. Allura crashing into a much less-forgiving surface than the ocean. Pidge failing to roll safely into the trees. Hunk, Lance, and Keith unable to be rescued by garrison personnel in time. And all Shiro could do was stand and watch, rooted to the bridge of the Atlas.

It was predictable at this point, and he knew it shouldn’t phase him. But if he managed to convince his dreaming mind that it was indeed only a dream, managed to move the Atlas, and get to Keith… He would be too late. His real, jagged guilt that he had been unable to reach any of them before they were rescued by others rang wildly in his ears. He had been helpless. He jolted awake like this most mornings, today was no exception.

Only, this morning, when he noticed Keith shifting beneath the blankets and stirring, Shiro felt the constricting fear around his heart ease slightly. Keith was soft when he slept, a stark contrast to his rough edges and abrasive nature when awake. Shiro had been struck by just how breakable he had looked when he first saw Keith in the hospital - too many tubes and lines connecting him to the machines and medicines keeping him alive. It chilled Shiro to think about, Keith’s abrupt and blunt personality sanded down to raw and rounded edges.

Shiro slid back down under the covers, inhaling another few breaths to calm himself. He rolled to face Keith, running a hand gently through his hair. Even with Keith facing away from him slightly, Shiro could make out the slight scrunch of Keith’s nose as he awoke to the sensation. He revelled in this: it had been so long since they had shared any time together. Even if Keith didn’t fully stir, this was the soul-repairing Shiro needed. Keith was safe, recovering. Keith was still his.

Today, Keith actively responded to Shiro’s touch, rolling over to face him. He was silent, but the tension in his movement told Shiro more than Keith would ever let on. He was still hurting, eyes glazed from a mixture of sleep and pain. Shiro shifted closer, running his hand over Keith’s cheek.

“Hey, baby.” Shiro leaned in, pressing a firm kiss over the bandage wrapping Keith’s head. He longed to smooth the hair back from his forehead, but it remained trapped under the gauze. He settled for smoothing his thumb over it instead.

Keith blinked his eyes a few times, gritty with sleep, and offered a lazy smile in response. “You’re here.”

Shiro’s heart attempted to leap out of his chest at Keith’s voice, gravelly and deep from lack of use. He hadn’t realized how much he had needed to hear Keith’s voice, needed to know he was okay. In the hospital, Keith had been alert - if tired - the adrenaline of surviving the battle still fueling him. The garrison doctors had told Shiro and Krolia that there was nothing else he needed but rest, and these last two days were proof of that. But the nagging fear at the back of Shiro’s mind hadn’t let the possibility of something worse, more serious, go away.

A bitter laugh choked its way out of Shiro before he could stop it, and he tugged Keith closer. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.” The back of his nose burned and he realized too late that there were tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Shiro reached to wipe them away, but Keith returned his embrace, holding his arm in a vice-grip.

They stayed like that, both trembling with an unexpected surge of emotion, the past weeks’ events finally sinking in, the gravity hitting like a wave all at once. Finally alone, they let the walls down.

Keith buried his hands in the back of Shiro’s tank top, his face hidden against his chest and under his mess of black hair. Shiro didn’t press him, didn’t ask him for anything. They held each other and cried like neither of them had allowed since - before all of this.

Eventually, Keith pulled back to get a full breath of air, his eyes red and puffy, cheeks flushed with undue embarrassment. Shiro looked down at him, choking back his own sobs and smoothing his hand once again across his cheek. “We’re okay, Keith. We’re all okay,” he murmured. He pressed his face to the top of Keith’s head, burying it in his hair and finding solace in the smell.

Keith responded after a beat, “I know.” It took Shiro a moment to remember what he’d said to prompt it, too caught up in this fleeting feeling of safety. “We did it.”

Scooting down to be eye level with him, Shiro released his grip around Keith’s waist to clasp his shoulder. “You did it. Keith, you were… something else.”

Keith pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow at that. “I was something else? What about you - Captain?” His laugh broke the heavy air of the moment, catching on his unused vocal chords.

Shiro felt his face heat up, and fought the urge to look away bashfully. He could tell Keith knew it embarrassed him, and was doing it on purpose to lighten the mood. “Please, I get enough of that from Coran and Matt already,” Shiro managed to laugh it off, hoping Keith would let the title drop. He wasn’t ready to let the moment pass, just wanted to hold onto him and know he didn’t have to let go. They had plenty of time to rehash the events of the battle later. Right now he just wanted to be.

Keith was nothing if not insistent though, adjusting in Shiro’s arms to look at him more directly. The stiffness in his limbs and tight set of his mouth did not deter him from speaking his mind. “I’m so proud of you, Shiro. This is… it’s what you were meant to do.”

Shiro froze at the sincerity of Keith’s words, shifting from the joking to an almost reverential tone. He stared at Shiro without flinching, confident in his assessment.

“Keith, I -“

Keith shook his head, moving a hand to cup Shiro’s face. “It is. You deserve this, Shiro. After everything you’ve gone through…”

The rest of the sentence hung in the air, unfinished. They both knew what Keith meant. More than just the Kerberos mission, more than just his time trapped in the astral plane - dead. Shiro had felt lost without a connection to Black once Allura had brought him back. He had done his best to guide and assist the team when he could, but it was abundantly clear he wasn’t needed there anymore. Keith had become the leader Shiro knew he could be and more.

Shiro felt a huge surge of pride for Keith too, the man he’d become, the leader he was. Keith had gone to hell and back just like him, and had come out stronger for it. Shiro voiced as much, but Keith was right. He couldn’t help but feel unrooted, not fully a part of Voltron, not fully a part of the garrison. And Keith knew it hurt him, selfishly so. It wasn’t until he felt the familiar pull of a connection with the Atlas that he had regained his sense of purpose. The Atlas was his undisputed domain now. As the only person capable of flying it, he had standing in the garrison once again and was an extension of the Voltron Coalition that couldn’t have been fathomed only a few weeks ago.

Shiro covered Keith’s hand on his cheek with his own, “Thank you, Keith.” He could barely force it out as a whisper, tears threatening to return. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” Keith gave him a tight-lipped smile in response, moving in to press his lips lightly against Shiro’s.

Placing his hands back on Keith’s waist, Shiro returned the kiss more purposefully, channeling all of his pent-up desperation and longing into the action. He kept his hands gentle around Keith, painfully aware of the fragility of his body after the crash. Keith, on the other hand, practically crushed Shiro to him as he deepened the kiss, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

“Keith, hey - maybe we should take it easy?” Shiro broke away long enough to regain his breath. He understood Keith’s insistence, but…

Keith surged back in with renewed urgency, as though Shiro’s hesitancy was all the more reason to press onward. Shiro indulged him, opening up as Keith’s tongue sought out his own. Keith’s hands felt their way down Shiro’s back, working up and under his tank top as they kissed, then continued back up and over his bare skin.

Shiro shivered at the new skin-on-skin contact, giving into Keith’s touch. His mind and body buzzed with desire, eager to renew his familiarity with Keith after so much distance and tragedy. When had they last had a chance to be together like this? A single-minded purpose coalesced in Shiro as he realized it had been long before the Castle of Lions was destroyed, long before Lotor had even registered as a threat. Too long, and never in this new body. When Keith’s hands made it to his chest, however, he was pushed back suddenly, knocking him out of his thoughts. Keith caught him in a searing gaze, Shiro dizzy with the pull of him.

“I need you.” Keith said it so matter of fact it made Shiro’s head spin, desire spiking through him more forcefully. Keith continued, as he started to bunch Shiro’s tank top up and off his body, “I thought I was gone, Takashi, and I -“

This time Shiro cut him off, smashing their lips together with bruising force.

Keith let out a surprised gasp, but didn’t finish his thought, opting instead to return the kiss. Their mouths connected sloppily, desperate for any sort of purchase. Keith ran his fingers through the cropped strands of Shiro’s hair and pulled, adding fuel to the fire already burning between them. Shiro felt more than heard a moan escape his lips, and he sought an even closer connection to Keith. Holding him, Shiro felt a fog clear from his mind, something he hadn’t realized had been so obscuring in Keith’s worrying absence from his daily life.

Shiro knew they were both aware of just how close they had been to losing everything in that battle. If Shiro hadn’t connected with the Atlas, if Keith and the paladins hadn’t managed to get the ship out of the atmosphere - there were too many _ifs._ This time, they had been lucky. Keith wasn’t going to take their time together for granted and neither was he.

The heat building low in Shiro’s stomach made a decision for him, and he opted to comply with Keith’s earlier demands. He pulled the rumpled, garrison-orange shirt over Keith’s head and immediately crowded back into Keith’s space, trailing kisses along his jaw. His hands roamed Keith’s back, careful to avoid the new cuts and bruises mottling his torso. Keith relaxed into Shiro’s touches, the tension and pain he had been holding onto releasing with the distraction. As Shiro reached the hinge of his jaw and neck he sucked at it wetly before smoothing his tongue across it, eliciting a moan from Keith.

“Shiro - please,” Keith bit off the words with another gasp as Shiro moved a hand down without warning, stroking it across his dick, already hard beneath the hospital-issued pants.

Shushing him, Shiro whispered hotly against Keith’s ear, “Let me take care of you, Keith,” before sucking a mark into the soft skin under his earlobe.

Keith could only pant in response, head lolling back and onto the pillow with an appreciative sigh. Shiro paused his movement, raising his eyebrows.

“Worn out already?” Shiro smiled back at Keith innocently as he shifted his body up and over him, fitting into the vee of his splayed legs, arms positioned on either side of his head.

“Fuck you,” Keith muttered as an even deeper blush crept over his face. “I haven’t been very active recently.” He spat out the sarcasm and Shiro bit his lip to stop his laugh.

Still, the logical side of Shiro flared up in worry at Keith’s response. “Keith, is this too much? We can stop.” He searched Keith’s eyes for a sign, knowing he would never willingly say no.

Keith returned Shiro’s worry with a deadpan stare. “Don’t you dare stop, Shiro.”

Shiro smirked despite himself, pacified by Keith’s determination. He sank down on Keith, planting a chaste kiss on his lips before shifting down to reposition himself between his thighs. Shiro looked up at him with hooded eyes and ghosted hot breath over the front of Keith’s pants. Squirming in anticipation, Keith rolled his eyes at the ceiling, not appreciating Shiro’s game. “You gonna take those off or what?”

Shiro pressed a firm kiss to the inside of Keith’s thigh through the fabric, pretending to mull the thought over. “Since you asked so nicely.” He reached up and grabbed the waistband, Keith lifting his hips slightly to help. Shiro dragged his pants down slowly, and Keith’s breath hitched as he felt the cool air of the room hit his dick.

Shiro sat up to toss the pants off the bed and then settled back down between Keith’s legs, left arm encircling a leg to hold Keith steady. Shiro sucked sloppy kisses up the inside of Keith’s thigh and then moved to lick a broad stripe up the length of Keith’s dick. He smiled to himself at the stutter in Keith’s breath and the muffled “ _fuck_ ” that escaped him involuntarily.

Continuing to work up and down the length, Shiro positioned his free hand at the base as he took the head in his mouth. He bobbed shallowly a few times before moving deeper, hollowing out his cheeks. Keith groaned as Shiro’s lips hit his own fingers, circled around Keith’s base. Shiro’s eyes watered with the effort, and his mind blanked - focused only on giving Keith what he deserved. He tasted the saltiness of pre-come as Keith fought to keep his hips from moving.

“Shiro, I want - I _need_ \- more,” Keith grit his teeth in frustration at Shiro’s lazy pace, and Shiro pulled off of him. Unrestrained desire replaced the banter in Keith’s voice, searching for a release only Shiro could give him. Shiro parted his lips into a silent “oh,” his own dick straining in anticipation beneath his boxers - but no, this was about Keith. There would be plenty of time for him later.

“Okay, baby, hang on.” Shiro released his grip on Keith’s leg and sat up, garnering an annoyed huff from Keith. “Let me just -“ Shiro scooted to the side of their bed, digging through the dresser before returning with a bottle of lube, which he promptly clicked open. As he worked the gel over his fingers, Keith remained still and quiet beneath him.

Shiro dropped back down and kissed at the crease between Keith’s leg and torso, lining his fingers up with Keith’s hole. Keith tensed slightly at the first contact, and before he could anticipate more, Shiro pushed a finger in.

“Oh, fuck,” Keith settled into the feeling, raising his knees up for better access and pushing Shiro’s finger deeper with each thrust. Shiro didn’t waste time adding a second, alternating between mouthing up Keith’s dick and watching as Keith’s face twisted in pleasure.

Shiro knew he was working his fingers more slowly than Keith would like, stretching him in long, smooth strokes, but he was hesitant still to push too far. Keith was already a sweaty mess, strands of hair escaping his bandage sticking to his face. He ground his hips down in desperation, searching for sensation that Shiro wasn’t giving. A barely there “please” escaped his lips, followed by a high-pitched keen in protest.

Sliding in a third finger, Shiro relented and took Keith in his mouth again, the combination of sensation finally satisfying. Keith’s thighs knocked against the sides of Shiro’s head in an unrestrained rush of pleasure, another quiet moan punching out from deep within him. Shiro involuntarily let out a groan of his own in response, taking a particularly deep swallow of Keith’s dick.

“God, _Shiro_.” As Keith’s dick hit the back of Shiro’s throat, he simultaneously crooked his fingers, hitting Keith’s prostate. The spark of pleasure shot through Keith and his entire body constricted. Shiro fought to not choke, before pulling up just enough to catch his breath. His head spun, the heady smell of Keith intoxicating him and urging him on.

“Shiro - Takashi, I’m close,” Keith arched his back beautifully under Shiro’s touch, making him exaggerate his ministrations. Shiro placed his free hand on Keith’s stomach, grounding him even as Shiro’s fingers and mouth made Keith fight against it.

Keith was so good like this. Under Shiro’s hands his body was melted and pliable, opening up for him in a way he did for no one else. His skin was clammy from sweat, his brow furrowed in a mix of pleasure and pain. As Keith came closer, small gasps punctuated his heavy breathing, unable to control his noises any longer. Shiro gave several more purposeful thrusts into Keith, sucking him off in time. Keith came with a stuttered, breathy groan, nearly a growl.

Swallowing, Shiro paused his movements to focus before pulling off with a firm and overstimulating slide that made Keith twitch. He removed his fingers slowly, nuzzling his cheek into Keith’s thigh as he came down. They both panted and fought to regain their breath, sweat making their overlapping bodies stick.

Once Shiro gained his composure, he looked up from his vantage point to find Keith already staring at him. His eyes unreadable except for the plain tiredness there. Propped up on his elbows, he looked relaxed enough to sleep for another two days. Shiro smiled at him warmly, his heart swelling with satisfaction. He could stay like this forever, content to bask in Keith’s presence and make him happy.

“Come here.” Keith spoke with a softness Shiro rarely heard, and he listened immediately. Pushing himself up and over Keith only to lower down next to him, Shiro met Keith’s gaze. Keith didn’t say anything else, and Shiro didn’t either, so much unspoken but understood between them. Their foreheads touching, Shiro’s thumb rubbing circles into the side of Keith’s neck, they stayed there until Shiro was sure Keith had dozed off.

“I love you, Keith.” Shiro pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then closed his eyes to drift back to sleep himself. He was sure it would be a dreamless one.

“I love you too, Shiro.” Shiro started awake again as Keith wrapped his arms more firmly around him, wiggling into him until no space was left between them. “Thank you.”

Shiro clamped his eyes shut, the overwhelming surge of emotion back as he squeezed the man in his arms tighter. He knew Keith meant it for more than the sex, more than the days and weeks spent sitting in his hospital room, waiting. They’d been through it all and had never wavered, both of them now safe, assured of their places in the universe and with each other. “Always, Keith. I’m right here.”

Keith drew lazy shapes into Shiro’s back, tracing over the ridges of his scars. So many memories in each that it seemed like multiple lifetimes worth. “Promise?”

Shiro thought back to the battle for earth. Thought of the desperation he felt to save Voltron as they were battered again and again by their adversaries. Thought of the shock and agony he felt at the idea of never seeing Keith again... The nightmares that haunted him could become a reality in the future - and Keith knew that as well as he did.

But then he thought of how that desperation led to the creation of the Atlas, a ship that manifested Shiro’s dedication to Voltron - to the team, to Keith - plain as the day. His fear of loss wasn’t a burden to him like it had been during the gladiator arena so long ago. Now it was strength. He had been ripped away from all he loved far too many times for any one man, but fate was on his side, and he came back from the brink each time. Now his fear was an asset that pushed him on and spurred him to save, to protect. And he knew he would, without a doubt.

“Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](http://eternal-heatstroke.tumblr.com) :)


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